


Lady Run Lady Hide

by yeahwrite



Category: The Dresden Files - All Media Types, The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Ableist Language, Ambigous Ending, Canon Compliant, Hope vs. Despair, Minor Violence, Open Ending, Parenthood, Pregnancy, Religion, Trains, White Court, White Court of Vampires, World Exploration, implied past suicidal thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 19:26:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18817444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeahwrite/pseuds/yeahwrite
Summary: What do you do, when you find out that monsters aren't just shadows lingering under the bed?There aren't very many options available to most people.Not many at all.Especially, if you want any hope of surviving these monsters.And especially, if some of those monsters are very, very close to home.





	Lady Run Lady Hide

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from the song of the same name, by April Wine! A song that I think is certainly fitting for the situation.
> 
> This is just a little world exploration titbit brought on by the question - "what about the mothers?"
> 
> Hope you enjoy reading!

With a deep, shuddering breath at the brisk cold air, Samantha pulled in her jacket tighter, holding it close together and clinging desperately to what little warmth the thing could bring.

A task made that bit harder, by her already slightly swollen belly.

Not that she really felt much of anything in there yet.

She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to or not, at these still early days.

After all, she had just about _barely_ found out that she was pregnant before…

Her eyes flicked to the side, at the newspaper held in the hands of a fellow traveller – eyeing it very warily.

_“Mentally Ill Mother-To-Be goes missing from hospital – family desperate”_

_A photo of a smiling woman in a green jacket bellow the head line, filling the front page with her warm brown hair, skin and eyes that could only be described to contain smiles._

Sam’s head ducked down then, letting her chopped and crudely dyed hair obscure as much of her face as she could, as she went to stand elsewhere in the platform.

 _Hopefully the train will arrive soon_ , she thought, as her eyes continued to flick around, waiting for the penny to drop.

It would be better when she was elsewhere.

Anywhere else.

It _would_ be.

She held on to that hope, that relentless optimism, as well as fanned it and allowed it to grow like a _wildfire_ inside of her.

She would make it.

So would her baby.

The bastards might have been able to take everything else from her, but they would _not_ take her _or_ her child.

_Never._

N-

Her head looked up then, catching and hearing the sounds in the distance of just what she’d been waiting for.

A sigh of relief and a small, equally relieved smile.

_There we go!_

Although…

A pang of sadness hit her then, as she allowed herself another look around – one last look around, in the station of a city that, should she have her way, she would never be back to.

A city that she had grown up in since birth, a young daughter of Mexican immigrants, working to do good in the world and make positive changes however she cold.

A city she called her home.

But those changes had been changed into something that was a level of perverse beyond anything she could ever have possibly have imagined

And that home was not safe for her anymore.

Her husband and his wretched family had seen to-

“Is that her?”

She paused, head stuck in place as she listened in.

“What?”

“Her! Over there! Doesn’t she look like that crazy lady on the news? The pregnant one who attacked that nurse and ran?”

“I dunno, hair’s different for one thing...prolly just someone who looks similar.”

“Ever heard of dye?”

Sam’s blood went cold, as the train pulled into the station.

 _No._ Not _now! They couldn’t spot her now!”_

Sam refused to let herself look at whoever was talking, as her heart raced and thundered on in her chest.

Instead, she thought to keep every muscle in her body in check as she stepped onto the bustling train, with an air that was hopefully casual.

Like her biggest concern in the world right now, was trying to find a comfortable seat.

She took just about the first one she could see, where nobody was potentially reading over any news stories – next to an elderly man, reading over a book and barely sparing any glance in her direction as she sat down.

Head to the window straight away, brows furrowing as she prayed not to be confronted.

Clinging to her hope once again, like a drowning woman to a life raft.

A soft prayer barely escaping her lips as she did.

And indeed, thankfully to the God that she had prayed to, when the train let off a hiss and once again moved off – not one person seemed to have confronted her.

“Excuse me Miss?”

Came the comment that seemed to be especially cruel on timing, causing Sam to jump slightly as she turned over to the voice.

An elderly woman across the row, with a kind smile and no newspaper at least in her hands.

Now, let it never be said that Samantha Sanchez was not a devout believer in the fundamental principle of “Rousseau was right” – and as such, she was absolutely inclined to take the smile as genuine.

She held her breath all the same though.

For if this woman did recognise her, then for all she knew reporting her would be well-intentioned.

And not a death sentence.

“Do you mind me asking how far along you are?”

“Oh! Well…” Samantha let out surprised, as she placed her hands on her belly.

“Just about three months. I think? I’m not actually quite sure. How things can be with this and that. I’ve not even been to a doctor’s about this yet.”

She confessed, words hard to stop when they started coming out and her allowing her genuine nerves about this to show at least.

No harm in that – and it would be nice to be able to properly talk about it with someone again.

The elderly lady let out a soft chuckle.

“I remember when my two were at that stage. Is this your first?”

“Yes, yes it is! Closest thing to kids I’ve had before, was a pet turtle.” Came again, the euphoria at finally being able to talk just casually making it hard to stop, even as she kept occasionally glancing to see reactions of others in the train.

“Well are _you_ in for a time! As a warning, woman to woman – morning sickness is about to get real rough on you. _Oof!_ I was bed ridden and vomiting my guts out for weeks! It was supposed to get better then they said, it’s nearly over - well it got worse before it got any better, let me tell you. Make sure you get your husband to spoil you.”

And just like that, the fun was over.

Samantha felt herself leaning back once again, before she even truly realised she’d been leaning forwards in the first place – and found her face _souring._

A nasty cocktail of very raw grief, guilt, disbelief and anger roiling around inside of her as it did.

Something the older woman clearly noticed, but before she got the chance to say anything-

“Tickets please!”

Was called by the staff which had finally made his way up and reached them.

Sam handed over hers while trying once again not to look at him, especially as she caught his eyes briefly narrow at her, as if trying to piece something together.

But once again, God was apparently on her side this time at long _last_ , as he moved on without further incident, giving off only a mild shake of his head – having apparently convinced himself it was nothing.

The elderly woman, however, had not done the same in regards to Sam’s reactions, pushing down her silver-rimmed spectacles.

“Is something wrong deary?”

Silence.

Foul memories bubbling of a guilt and despair that had once felt far too heavy to possibly bear or ever redeem herself from.

Too much.

Even if now, she had enough hope in her to be more than willing to stride on forwards and do absolutely anything she could to redeem just _what_ she had been an _accomplice_ in…the memory was still…

“Oh dear, tell me it wasn’t something I said?”

“No, no of course not! You’re just fine, no worries! No worries at all!” Samantha snapped to and quickly tried to reassure the woman, leaning forwards slightly again as she did.

Her own worry still furrowed on her face and echoed deep in her voice, but not wanting the other woman to fret on her behalf.

“It’s just…”

Well, how to phrase it?

In a way that certainly wouldn’t…

Her expression cracked further.

Wouldn’t end, like when she’d tried to warn her mother.

Tell her of what she’d seen and why she needed to run.

Why she needed _help._

“Me and my husband…we aren’t…”

_Wanting each other alive anymore?_

Well, that was a lie.

 _He_ wanted her alive for at least a few more months. About six now.

It was the only reason, she imagined, that she had been allowed to be hospitalised for her alleged “delusions”, after what had happened…and not simply…

…

“Together, anymore.”

For Pollux Skavis was nothing short of a _monster._

_A cruel, vicious monster who wore the face of a man._

She didn’t know exactly what _kind_ of monster he was, even after seeing what he…did to people.

Hidden behind a crack in a doorway of a man who had gotten sloppy and refused to consider that his doting wife might become suspicious of the ongoings of _her own agency towards her own clients._

But she didn’t _need_ to know.

He was _behind_ them now.

Her and _her_ baby both.

_And if he came back…well._

She didn’t much believe in unnecessary violence, as a Catholic woman herself.

That and how _– “never raise your hands without first extending it” –_ were words she still was dedicated to living by.

 _But_ indeed, she had _already_ extended her hand to him.

And lost almost everything in result of just that.

So, if that monster came hunting them.. _._

There was a gun already in her bag.

And it was _on sight_ with him.

…And then _running_ , on the good chance that was only enough to keep him down for a short while.

_Again._

Meanwhile - “Oh.” The elder woman said simply, a frown on her face.

“Well…” She continued to flounder on what to say.

“It’s fine. Me and baby are fine both. It’s for the best.” Samantha once again intervened to reassure, a smile and a resolute nod directed at the woman and, in a way, herself both.

The older woman took a moment still to compose herself, fiddling with her own turtle neck.

And not much was said after, just a simple wishing of luck before the conversation trailed off altogether.

Which Samantha did regret – the conversation had been nice and she hated to think she’d left the poor woman upset.

She contemplated whether to perhaps say something again, as she resumed to look out the window again – only to get a prickling feeling on the back of her neck, as she did.

The kind you got when…when being watched.

Samantha risked a look, to try get a glace to see if this was a problem.

A couple of teens from the looks of it, a few rows back – peering over their chair trying to get a closer look at what had clearly been her, them darting back down as soon as eyes accidentally met.

It was then that she also noticed another fellow passenger – and adult this time – typing something into a phone, as they too kept shooting glances in her direction.

The one who had been sitting beside them getting out of their seat too, as if to try find some staff.

Samantha’s breath hitched at this and she felt herself slink into her seat further, heart starting to pound in her chest more and more rapidly, until it was so fast she could barely tell one beat from another at all.

 _No. Keep calm._ – She told herself.

_What happened to that trademarked relentless optimism? This is manageable. You can do this. You just need to get off the train at the next stop and all will be fine. You will make it. Everything is going to turn out alright._

Footstep making their way down towards her in the corridor now.

She could hear them.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

_You’ve gotten out of worse. This will be easy peasy lemon squeezy walk in the park. Don’t even sweat about it Sammy. Don’t sweat on it at all. Have faith and all will be well._

_You just need the next stop and to take it from there._

“Excuse me miss?” She heard and with a great heavy weight, turned up to look at what was definitely a member of staff – accompanied by that passenger, hovering behind them, face a picture of unease.

“Mhmm? Yes? Can I help you?”

“Can I ask to see some ID?”

“I’m so, so sorry-” Sam out on her best apologetic voice and face.

Especially since she knew she couldn’t even really pretend to look.

A gun being in the bag she’d have to rummage through and all.

“-but I don’t think I have any with me. Any with me at all. I even thought to myself this morning – should I bring my license? But it completely slipped my mind. Silly me, you know how it is, right? Is there anything else, I could possibly do to help? To help at all?”

Staff and passenger shared a glance with each other both.

Meanwhile, the train let off an announcement that it was near its next stop – and with that, Samantha felt her hope _soar._

Not that the staff or passenger felt that way – worry visibly increasing on both of their faces.

And the rest of the occupants of the carriage seemed to be intently watching now, too.

“Would you wait here please, Miss?”  She was given, as a beeline was quickly made by the uniform.

The passenger meanwhile, staying put, arms crossed as they stared intently at her – so intently, Sam wasn’t even sure that they were blinking.

She gave a smile back in response.

They were trying to do the right thing, after all.

Even if in reality, this was anything but that.

She could let the _thought_ count – even if she dearly wished it could perhaps have formed, after she was at least already off the train and more able to make a getaway.

“Train is now arriving-”

Speaking of.

Samantha sprang to her feet, thankful her belly at least wasn’t big enough yet to get in the way of that.

“Excuse me, this is my-”

The passenger was already moving to intercept, hands held out.

“You’re going to have to wait”

“But I-”

“I heard him too lady. Man said to wait, you wait.” The man who had been sitting next to her spoke up at last, voice sharp and eyes narrowed.

“I-” Samantha turned to see if she could try give a pleading look to the woman she had talked earlier, hoping that she could feel some of that solidarity once again now.

But she seemed determined not to meet her eye, her face turned away entirely from the situation.

Sam felt her fists clench – knowing the doors were going to close soon.

“Please, I need to get off here. I have an appointment.” She lied.

“Doubt that.”

“Look Miss, we’re just trying to-“ A new voice.

One Sam could not afford to give the chance to listen to.

The doors starting to shut.

“I’m so sorry.” Came genuinely this time.

Then, teeth gritting, she moved forwards – slamming the side of her body as hard as she could into the person in front of her, sending them off balance with a harsh yell.

And then she _bolted_.

Bolted through the door just before it closed – and not stopping.

For all she knew, security could have been called or the train stopped and doors reopened.

Indeed, she hurt yells behind her even as she sprinted.

Refusing to allow herself to stumble and praying to God that her will would be enough on that.

Running, running and running – pushing all her fitness and endurance to its absolute maximum as the pregnant woman ducked and weaved and dashed.

And then, even when she was out the train station – she didn’t stop then either.

She knew how this happened.

Knew it well.

How people could get lost.

You either went somewhere inconspicuous or get buried in a crowd.

And even as her lungs screamed, Sam would not drop speed until she found one or the other of those options.

There was no other possibility.

She _would_ find one of those options.

She had faith in that and it would _be_ that.

Eventually, her salvation did come too – a particularly bustling crowd in the city, all grouped together.

Almost letting out a laugh of sheer relief, Samantha weaselled her way in and allowed herself to get caught up in the flow of it – simply being taken wherever it decided to go.

Head ducked down once again, as her pace at least got to ease to something more manageable.

As her circumstances became at least somewhat more manageable.

She wouldn’t be able to stay in this city  - that was certainly without question.

They would know she was here now.

It would reach the police and from there it would spread further.

So, another place she would have to head and soon.

She would have to figure out a non-train way to do that too.

Perhaps bus, or simply a very, very long taxi trip.

…She’s have to think more on it in a moment, once she’d at least caught a bit of her breath back.

But she would figure something out, she was sure of it.

After all, she’d made it this far, hadn’t she?

When once despair had overwhelmingly won and she had thought that was it – game over – here she still was.

Still standing.

Still walking.

One foot at a time.

And that, is exactly what she would just have to keep on doing.

Moving forwards, gunning for better tomorrows, one foot at a time.

It was then, that a fresh, icy wind decided to assert itself.

Whipping across her with a nasty bite  once again.

And, so-

With a deep, shuddering breath at the brisk cold air, Samantha pulled in her jacket tighter, holding it close together and clinging desperately to what little warmth the thing could bring.

A task made that bit harder, by her already slightly swollen belly.

Not that she really felt much of anything in there yet.

She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to or not, at these still early days.

She couldn’t _wait_ for the day she _did_ feel more though.

Or, even _more_ so – the day, she finally got to _meet_ her precious baby and even just _hold_ them in her own arms.

Hold them and promise, how she was going to make sure everything was going to be okay.

That day - when they both got there - was going to be _wonderful._

 It was that thought that pleasantly lingered upon her, as Samantha Sanchez kept on striding forwards.

**Author's Note:**

> To give some extra context which, with the nature of this being a mini fic, didn't really fit in with the flow: Samantha Sanchez was a woman who started up an agency dedicated specifically to finding missing people - something helped by her very strong benevolent convictions and boundless fuelled-by-lots-of-coffee and computer wizz nature.
> 
> Her husband was someone she met after that with him stating a desire to help it, with things seeming fine at first, indeed to the point of them later getting married - but, as it turned out he was essentially using her and her agency as a "fishing hook": with so many vulnerable people as clients of it, it was a very, very ideal preying ground for a despair-eating vampire.
> 
> And now, unfortunately, with Samantha having been forced to flee both for her own life and trying to keep her baby safe and away from a monster of a father - that agency is in fact, fully in Skavis hands: it having gone straight to him as her business partner and husband.
> 
> And Samantha is going to have to try start up both her life and all her good work from scratch - providing, of course, she is not ever caught while on the run. 
> 
> Fugitive from the law and monsters both, as she is - unable to exactly say to any human court the truth of what is actually going on, or appeal for any help on the basis of any supernatural laws (if she learned of them), as a pure mortal.


End file.
